people don't settle for the physical.
they want your heart,
your soul,
your energy,
your time.

people don't settle for what's underneath your skin.
they want your words,
your touch,
your eyes on them only.

people don't settle for what's real.
they want angels,
gods,
super humans.
the ones who don't have limits.
the ones you can never fathom.

This is what you get when you get too comfortable with where you are
when you give yourself up in good faith and trust to the people around you
This is what you get for optimism, for believing in people, in humanity, in choice
This what you get for feeling one second of being alright
For thinking that things always seem to work out well for you
Get out of the clouds girl
It's all down to chance, sometimes you land in luck and sometimes not so much
This is what you get for leaving things in your pocket that you should have given more worth
This is what you get
This is what you get
This is what you get

To the person who stole my jacket: It was just a jacket, so maybe I shouldn't care as much, but it wasn't just a jacket. It was my mom's and she gave it to me. I didn't want to buy a new one because I'm trying to keep care of the planet, your planet. I wore that to a party last night where I said goodbye to the last four years of my life. I loved the fuzzy hood that you unzipped and left behind on the shelf, it hid me. I only brought one jacket today and now I have to go march a parade in the cold. I was just starting to trust this place.

I'm sure you have a story too. I'm sure I'll never get to hear it. But I hope as you took my jacket off the shelf, in the back of your head,
you heard a grade school teacher saying
Every action has a consequence

I am your consequence
My story is your ghost
I hope it brings you whatever chance has in store
Be it joy or misery

This is what you get
This is what you get
This is what you get

He was engrossed in his performance
in the enthralled silence of the audience
catching the subtlest notes from the instrument
as his supple fingers played with the strings
erupting into the finest blend of ragas
freeing the souls of all the stress
converging his heart into his music
eyes closed as in a transcendental state.

But I could not concentrate.

The face behind the beard and the unkempt hair
was familiar.

From a long distant day
I remember those fingers performed in a different way.

The afternoon I came back from school
and mom told me her monies were missing
and he was the only visitor to her room
waiting in the pretext of meeting me
but after a while leaving hurriedly.

He confessed and the money was recovered
but never again the breached trust.

The audience rose in ovation fingers clapping
my own frigid in remembrance
of another performance.

Living alone
Is a personal torture
Whenever you feel need of someone
You cry without words on lips

Detective Dalton is all confused about the ******.

Mr. Smith's head was bludgeoned with a heavy object
the impact reveals the vengeance of the killer
Bill the Butler had before closing for the night
heard the couple quarreling over something
Junior Smith was having a night out with his fiancée
and Daisy the daughter had retired to bed early
for she was to set out for an excursion early next day
Mary the maid had taken her leave by the evening
to attend to her husband ailing for some time.

Dalton has no clue about the ****** weapon
nor any lead to point to the possible suspect
but for a scribble on the page of an old diary
found neatly folded beside the victim's body
that reads as follows:

behind the humble mask is a ***** man
time and again he has ***** a beautiful soul
all just for the pleasure of his flesh
mauled her with his ugly tooth and claw
constantly used her to feed his lust
lost the right to live this man
and he deserves his place in hell
a mighty blow to his head
will for sure end this monster
will do that with my hand
and see his blood oozing out
to recompense for the sin
he forced on her.

The murderer has kept the name hidden in the letters,
Detective Dalton has only to find out.